Black Fortunes
by Herald-MageAnduli
Summary: Harry breaks the copy of Sirius' mirror after the horrific end of the war. He is sent back to 1975 and takes up the mantle of Lord Peverell. He hopes to turn around the tragic Black family story. How? By getting newly widowed Lord Orion Black to fall in love with him. SLASH, Mpreg, Time-Travel, mild Character Bashing. Orion Black/Harry Potter, sub!Harry UPDATE 10/16
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Black Fortunes  
****Genre: Drama/Family/Romance/Time-Travel/SLASH  
****Pairing: Orion Black/Harry Potter  
****Summary: Harry breaks the copy of Sirius' mirror**** after the horrific end of the war. He is sent back to 1975 and takes up the mantle of Lord Peverell. He hopes to turn around the tragic Black family story. How? By getting newly widowed Lord Orion Black to fall in love with him. SLASH, Mpreg, Time-Travel, mild Character Bashing.  
****Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Everything you recognize is owned by J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., Bloomsbury and Scholastic.**

_**One**_

Harry James Potter stared around himself with blank emerald eyes. Nothing had been worth _this. _Hogwarts was an empty shell, more than half of it was destroyed, the rest was uninhabitable ruins. Everybody he knew was dead, practically. The only ones left beside himself were Charlie Weasley, locked in a coma after the death of his entire family, Kingsley Shacklebolt, blind and unable to hear in his left ear and Neville Longbottom, beside his parents in St. Mungo's thanks to the Lestrange brothers, who had driven him insane after he slaughtered Bellatrix in the final battle.

In his hands he held a single object, a mirror. Twin to the one he had shattered after Sirius' death, it was once perhaps a beautiful object. Now, stained by blood and dirt from his hands it was something unrecognisable. He stared at the man in the mirror, unable to recognise himself, let alone the mirror. He had a scar across the left side of his face, courtesy of an exploding metal bar, his skin was pallid after spending nearly two years hiding underneath the school in the Chamber of Secrets and he was thin, more so than Sirius after 12 years unjustly imprisoned.

Now that he thought about, actually, the Black family had gotten quite the racket. Sirius was dead after being in Azkaban, Andromeda and her family had been murdered by Death Eaters since she had 'spoiled her purity' by marrying a Muggleborn, Bellatrix had been driven insane by her husband and the Dark Lord she had been pressed into serving so blindly. Regulus had been dragged underwater and drowned by Inferi, Narcissa and Draco had been killed for Lucius' second failure in the war, not that Harry grieved for Narcissa.

He had honestly grieved for Draco Malfoy, however. The young man hadn't known what he was getting himself into; all he wanted was to please his exacting and demanding Mother. Lucius hadn't been guilt-free in raising his son either, but from what Harry knew most of it had been Narcissa's fault. Draco had lost everything, including his life, because he was afraid to stand up for himself and possibly disappoint his family.

Even Orion Black had suffered. Harry hadn't known Sirius' father, but he did know that the man had been forced into a betrothal contract with his own cousin, a cold shrew of a woman who couldn't have been easy to live with. Sirius hadn't spoken much of his father aside from a paranoia about Muggles, but that could have easily come from ignorance and family traditions. The fact that he hadn't spoken much about the man was in his favour, it meant that he hadn't been one to punish Sirius or his brother often.

Suddenly hit by the injustice of everything that had been dealt to the magical world and the Black family in general, Harry yelled in fury and threw the mirror away from him. It struck a tree, shattering into a few hundred fragments of glass and larger chunks of metal.

Struck by a dizzy spell he leaned forward, closing his eyes. As the world began to swirl around him in a haze of colour and he was slowly falling unconscious, the last thought that struck him was a humourous _I guess there is some truth to that adage about breaking mirrors._

* * *

**_A/N: I know, I know. Dark Roses is primary, this one is secondary. I couldn't leave it alone, especially with the pairing I've chosen!_**


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Sorry about the wait, work got in the way. I was amazed by the response to this, I'm glad so many of you like it already. I saw the total lack of Orion/Harry fics in here and had to write one, plus this idea has been bouncing in my head for a while now.**_

_**Two**_

He felt as though he had been squeezed through a particularly long Apparition, or so was Harry's first thought when he woke. It was dark and he tasted dirt under his lips, which were against the ground. With a groan he rolled over, noting immediately the hard surface under his back, with grooves that dug into his sensitive spine and ribs. Opening his eyes he noted a dark alley of sorts, dingy back doors of shops on both sides.

Twenty years old and trained by Alastor Moody himself in Auror basics, he quickly scanned with his senses, noting a large amount of latent magic from witches, wizards and magical beings. His ears caught the low murmurs of conversations and the sharp _snick_ of heels on something rough, perhaps stone. He inhaled deeply and noted the stale air that stank of alcohol, wizarding drugs and other unsavory things.

He sat up, looking at the ground. It was cobblestone, he noted, not pavement. Either a _very _old section of Muggle London or the magical world. He would guess the latter from what he had noted so far. He stood carefully, wiping his face on his sleeve and digging into his pocket. He pulled out his wand and his face fell into dismay. The wand that had gotten him through school and the war was snapped cleanly into three pieces. There would be no repairing it.

He realised a few things in quick succession. The mirror he had broken had transported him here, somehow. He wasn't sure where he was, though getting out of this dingy back alley would clear things up somewhat. He had no money on him at the moment, which meant that he needed to get to Gringotts, which was an easy enough goal.

He left the alley, thanking Merlin for the removal of his scar through Muggle surgery and the potion that had fixed his eyes. He was unrecognizable to the populace of the magical world if he was careful enough and fighting a fierce and bloody war for the last 4 years had taught him that much.

He left the alley and was startled to realise that he was in Knockturn, just past Borgin and Burkes. He moved swiftly, not wanting to remain in this Alley for much longer. A few quick minutes of walking brought him out into Diagon, right next to the _Daily Prophet_ office. There was a magical newsstand next to him, selling current issues of the _Prophet. _He stared in shock at the headline which screamed _**Massive Attack by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in Dover! 19 Fatalities, 12 Injured!**_

_What?! He's dead!_ Harry practically screamed. Then he noted the date of the paper and just about fell over in shock. Sunday 12 October, 1975. He was in the _past_ by almost 25 years. His pa-

Harry frowned. J- _Why couldn't he remember? He had just known their names a moment ago._

He hesitated for a moment longer and then spotted the glossy white building of Gringotts. Right, that was his goal at the moment, his lapse in memory could be addressed later.

_Strange things can happen to those who mess with time, Harry._ A voice warned, but for all his struggles he couldn't for the life of him remember _who_ the voice belonged to.

He moved swiftly now, needing to deal with his lack funds and a form of defense, though he was capable of higher than average wandless magic, it was draining to use for long amounts of time. He entered Gringotts slowly, a voice in his head admonishing, _Yea, that's a goblin Harry. Not a creature you want to mess with, goblins._

Shaking his head slightly to get rid of the voices he couldn't place, he moved to one of the goblins and said quietly, "I need an inheritance test to see if I have vaults to claim."

The goblin nodded curtly and motioned another forward. "He will take you to one of our open managers, sir."

As they walked Harry frowned to himself. He hadn't meant to say those words; all he needed to do was access either the B- or Po-_. Really? What was going on?_

"Bloodclaw, this wizard needs an inheritance test and to claim any vaults in his name," his guide said after a moment and he realised that they had entered a fairly small but private office with basic furnishings and another goblin sitting behind a desk.

Bloodclaw motioned for him to sit down and said, "Inheritance tests cost two galleons, sir. Will you be able to afford it if you don't have anything here at Gringotts for you?"

Thanking Merlin for his habit of carrying around spare change he nodded. "I will be able to pay, though I am fairly sure I have a vault waiting for me."

"Prick your finger on this blade and press the blood into this parchment," Bloodclaw handed him a wicked looking little dagger and a piece of pale gold parchment.

Harry pricked his finger carefully with the sharp blade and pressed it against the paper. There was a small zapping sensation at the point where he had cut his finger and then the parchment glowed. It began to write out information from the very top of the page, but the information shocked him.

_Name: Harrigan Aldric Peverell_

_Age: 20_

_Date of Birth: 31 July, 1955_

_Father: Lord Aldric Peverell_

_Mother: Lady Elpis Peverell_

_Title: Lord of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Peverell_

_Vaults: 520, 542, 564_

_Blood Status: Pureblood_

_What in the hell?_ Harry thought. He opened his mouth to say that the information wasn't right and what came out was, "I believe this needs some explanation, my parents died when I was very young and I was privately educated by distant relatives."

Bloodclaw looked at the parchment and his eyes went wide. "What this means, Harrigan, is that you are heir and Lord to one of our oldest families. You are not the wealthiest, but you are going to be able to be comfortable for at least your own lifetime. There are a number of families that are descendants of the Peverells and they have claimed a few vaults over the years, ones set specifically aside for them. However, your name is very old; it carries a great deal of weight. There will be those interested in marrying you just for your name. I suggest you be very careful in the future."

"I will do so. For now, may I take control of my vaults, get a statement and a bank card and be on my way?"

"Certainly, Lord Peverell. Sign these documents while I retrieve a Gringotts bank card for you."

He signed them with a blood quill, wincing a little at the object for a reason that was quickly slipping away. A frown crossed his face for just a moment before he smoothed it away. Things had changed, obviously. He had come into control of a name that had been extinguished in the male line in his time, one that had been his ancestors. Apparently he had a purpose here; so far he wasn't sure what.

Bloodclaw came back to his desk with two objects, the first of which he placed on the table. "The Peverell Lordship ring," he explained.

Harrigan picked up the ring and examined it. It was heavy, made of yellow gold and white gold intertwined together to form an elaborate Celtic knot. The meaning of the knot was 'Loyalty', something Harrigan could respect. The stone onto which the main knot was embossed was an oval-cut red diamond, so deep a red it could have been blood.

Bloodclaw gave him a small golden card, not much larger than a galleon and certainly smaller than a Muggle debit card. "You will need to simply tap this on a receipt and the amount will be paid and a receipt sent to your vaults. We publish statements every month on the 2nd of the month; your first statement will be received in about 2 weeks by owl. No one can access your statements aside from yourself until you bring them in here and give them access to your accounts."

"Thank you Bloodclaw. I have one more question. Is there such a thing as a Permanent Aging Potion? I am a little young for such a title as this one and I wish to make an impact on the wizarding world. My voice will have more weight if I am even a few years older."

Bloodclaw looked at him with something akin to budding respect. "Certainly there is a permanent form, Lord Peverell. It can only age you a maximum of 10 years and can only be used once. Done here at Gringotts it cannot be traced in your blood by any scan, spell or historical potion. It costs 30 galleons, purely the cost of the ingredients and the labor of the Potions Master needed to brew it."

"I would like to use one then, Bloodclaw. Debit my account for the appropriate amount. I think the maximum of 10 years would be appropriate. People tend to respect 30 more than 20," he finished wryly.

The potion was brought to him and he drank it in a single go, wrinkling his nose at the unpleasant taste. It didn't change his height or physical features much, but he could tell it worked when Bloodclaw bowed and said, "Much more appropriate for your conduct and behaviour, my Lord. Have a good day."

"May your bank overflow with gold," Harry replied, startled by his slightly deeper voice.

He exited the bank, headed for Ollivander's. He needed a new wand since his own was broken. Somehow the broken wand made sense now, if he was coming back in time to replace someone who died too soon or wasn't born at all in _his_ timeline then it wouldn't be good for the H- P-, _not again!_ It wouldn't be good for _him_ to come to Ollivander's and not have the wand waiting there.

He left Ollivander's not an hour later in possession of a brand new wand, 12 inches, made of rowan and phoenix feather, fairly rigid. Armed he felt far more comfortable and set out to acquire a new wardrobe. According to the document at Gringotts, he had a seat on the Wizengamot and sessions began again in two weeks. He wanted to make an impact.

_A/N: So the bits where the words didn't finish are from the time travel, in case you didn't get that. He's not supposed to remember what was going on in 'his' dimension, so that if he alters this one the other keeps going. Make sense of a sort?_

_I need your help! I need to find a story, it's a Snarry. I'm pretty sure Harry is named Lucius or Lucian, after Lucius who is his real father. Everyone calls him Luke so they don't confuse them. He's Draco's twin or half-brother, I'm not sure. I seem to remember a fairly evil Dumbledore and Hermione is Bellatrix's daughter. Sound familiar? I can't find it anywhere on here and I know I saw it fairly recently. If you recognize it please post the name of the author or the story itself in your review. No links, they don't work on _


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: Wow you guys! I am so amazed at your reviews and how quickly you found my story! It was 'Identity Crisis' by PhoenixFire26, as so many of you listed. I will keep canon for Orion's birth year. He was born in 1929, so he is 16 years older than Harrigan, making him 46. Sound about right? Since nobody is sure about James' parents canon-wise they will be Lord and Lady Harold and Eleanor Potter. This chapter is split into two parts, the first is Orion's side of things, the next update will be Harrigan's with a bit of background on how he spent the last 3 months.**_

_**Three**_

Lord Orion Arcturus Black leaned back in his seat of the Wizengamot and studied his peers. It was 2nd November, 1975 and this was the first session of the new quarter in the British Wizarding government. He studied his known opponents with narrow silvery eyes, clenching his firm lower jaw in an effort to push down his annoyance. He had rather hoped that Lord Harold Potter wouldn't be recovered from his bout of wizarding flu. The male Potter with his trademark messy hair, his own a mousey brown was undeniably present.

Unofficially the Wizengamot chambers were already splitting into three sections, those of the 'Dark', the 'Light' and the fairly powerful Neutral section. The most well-known names in the Light section were the Potter, Abbott and Fawcett families. Their Dark equivalent were Orion's own family, the Malfoys, Lestranges and Flint. The only names of notice for the Neutrals were the Bones and Ogden families. No matter what went on in a war, everyone still bought Ogden's Firewhiskey so aged Lord Charles Ogden was in good shape.

Seated to his left was his good friend Abraxas Malfoy, a distinguished individual with deep cornflower blue eyes and long, pale blonde hair. The hair was a trademark of the Malfoy family but Orion was fond of teasing Abraxas that his hair was more white than blonde. The man always gave a dismissive sniff and said, "At least it's not as noticeable as your own, Orion."

Orion Black was a handsome individual and he knew it. Both of his sons took after him and his side of the Black family, something he was grateful for. He stood an imposing six foot four and possessed broad shoulders, very strong arms and a surprisingly narrow waist for one of 46 winters. Orion was proud of his figure and it helped that it was set off by a pair of misty blue eyes and deep black hair, though he had been amused at the white hairs that had shown already. They made him look even more distinguished than he usually did, confined to a small space at both temples. His hair was cut to fall just at earlobe length with slightly longer fringe that he usually tucked behind his left ear out of habit.

Seated to his right was Lord Lucien Alexis Lestrange who possessed a pair of astonishing silver eyes he shared with his distant relative and namesake, Lucius Malfoy. His twin sons Rodolphus and Rabastan were at Hogwarts along with both of Orion's sons, in the same year as his oldest, Sirius. Orion frowned slightly to himself, worried about his oldest. Even though he had sent word that Sirius was still welcome home for the holidays after Walburga's surprising but unlamented death he hadn't received word back.

A slight snort of amusement made it past firm, expressive lips as he considered the matter of his unexpected widow state. For such a proud and anti-Muggle woman, being brought down by _cancer _of all things had infuriated his late wife beyond measure. The wizarding world had no better research on the invasive disease than the Muggle one, and Walburga had refused to be treated by anything invented by 'common filth', thus she had passed away not even four months previous from Heart Cancer, bitter to the very end. Her foul, withered old heart had been her end, just as Orion had often thought it would be.

The death of that foul old harpy was _liberating,_ to say the least. What? Had one really expected him to have cared about the woman? It had NOT been his choice to marry that old bitch, not in the least! No, his parents Arcturus and Melania had somehow come upon the knowledge that their son and heir was bisexual with a strong preference for his own gender, so the old, self-righteous and bigoted pair had secured an 'acceptable' future and revenge upon their son's leanings in one fell swoop, betrothing him to his cousin of all people.

Just before the doors would seal, signaling the beginning of session, a series of murmurs caught his attention. "Now who is that, I wonder?" Lucien murmured in surprise.

Turning to the doors that offered the Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot entrance (the reporters and such had a lower entrance toward the center of the circular room and had been seated before the Wizengamot began to arrive), Orion Black felt his eyes widen in surprise.

The man walking steadily toward the Speaker's platform was younger than Orion, though considerably past his teens. He was dressed in a striking combination of leather and silk, the leather pants and boots in a warm shade of bronze and the silk robe in evergreen with bronze tracery. He possessed raven-black hair that was slightly wavy bound back by a thin bronze tie and very pale jade green eyes. His complexion was flawless and while he was obviously male, the creamy skin and soft features of his face gave a certain androgynous nature to his appearance.

"Speaker of the Wizengamot, I wish to claim my seat and votes," His voice was a surprisingly low tenor, very mellow and smooth.

"Certainly, my Lord. Place your finger upon the black stone please; the magicks of the Chamber will do the rest."

Their newest companion placed a single long finger upon the black stone resting on the Speaker's platform, not even flinching at the small bite of blood the stone took. A moment later the magicks of the Chamber filled the room with a loud voice that stated, "The Wizengamot recognises Lord Harrigan of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Peverell."

Amid the absolute stunned silence of the chamber Abraxas hissed in his ear, "_Peverell?"_

As both Orion and his esteemed friends knew, the Peverell family was supposedly extinct in the male line. The Lordship hadn't been claimed in nearly 100 years, 99 to be precise. This was of significance only because of the fact that once a Lordship had gone unclaimed for 100 years it could be claimed by the closest descendants. From the growing scowl on Senior Mugwump Albus Dumbledore's face, he had been hoping the prestigious line would go to the Potters in another year. They had been able to take one of the smaller vaults as descendants but the title had been denied by Gringotts.

Better yet, nobody could accuse Lord Harrigan of doing something dishonest to gain the title. The Wizengamot Chambers had all manner of spells and wards laid in place, supposedly by Merlin himself, to stop just such a thing from happening. On top of that, the black stone that confirmed a Lord or Lady's place in the Wizengamot did so with a drop of blood, which no potion in the magical world could falsify. Even Polyjuice just changed the physical make-up, not the blood.

He watched the pale jade eyes scan the room, undoubtedly noting the unofficial break up between factions. Those eyes narrowed a little in contemplation and then a very small smirk crossed his lips. With a deliberately slow turn, Lord Harrigan Peverell made his way carefully toward Orion and his companions, getting an indrawn gasp to cover the mutterings from before.

Orion was equally floored. A look at Abraxas showed that the blonde had tightened his grip on the elegant black cane he held, the only outward sign of his own shock. The Peverells were a firmly Light family in the past, some of the more recent members had been Neutral, certainly none had been Dark. And yet Harrigan Peverell made his way carefully up the stairs and took a seat two down from a slightly-stunned looking Lucien Lestrange.

A blustering Lord Fawcett spoke first. "Lord Peverell, I am not certain you realise where you are sitting. The men in your immediate vicinity are the Lords Black, Malfoy and Lestrange. You are more than welcome over here instead of such _dark_ companionship."

That low warm voice filled the room again, though Lord Peverell didn't stand. "I am fully aware of where I sit, Lord Fawcett, thank you."

"Then why are you sitting with the Dark section? The Peverells are a _Light _family!" Lord Prewett sputtered.

"Need I remind you, Lord Prewett, that your family was considered _Dark_ as well until the 1940's, when you thought it prudent to side with Albus Dumbledore when it became obvious Grindelwald was losing the war? Dark is a very general term, in my opinion. Nonetheless, it is not your place to decide where I sit and how I vote and I suggest you be quiet before you make even more of a fool of yourself."

Lord Ogden gave a hearty chuckle from the Neutral section and Lord Prewett took his seat, face flaming in embarrassment.

_This,_ Orion mused, _is going to be interesting._

* * *

_A/N: I have read the Black family tree over again after Rosier pointed out the error in Orion's parents. Thank you for that, by the way. However, even on HPLexicon they say that Charlus and Dorea Potter are NOT likely James' parents, though perhaps their one son is James' dad. So my choices for James' parents are going to stay for now._


	4. Chapter 4

**_A/N: Sorry about the long wait, I've been very busy helping my sister move to Alaska, a last-minute kind of thing. I even forgot to pay my bills. Oops. I have a poll I would like people to vote on regarding my stories (in-progress and waiting to post). I would love your opinion!_** **_Sorry about the short chappie too, I had to get over the gigantic road-bump called writer's block._**

**_Four_**

Harrigan felt his lips twitch in mild amusement as a sputtering Lord Prewitt took his seat, turning red in embarrassment. Not only had he been caught out attempting to bring a fellow Lord over to the 'correct' seating, but he'd been chastised like an unruly child in front of the whole Wizengamot for the same thing. He wouldn't be recovering anytime soon.

Harrigan had spent the last few weeks buying a proper wardrobe, re-educating himself in wizarding politics and etiquette (something he'd been slacking on rather badly) and familiarizing himself with the Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot and wizarding nobility in general. It would not do to insult someone by accident this early; not knowing their name or title was a sure way to do so.

Considering his companions, he felt a very small smile cross his lips. It was obvious these very powerful and 'Dark' wizards were shocked at his choice of seating, but they maintained a poise and elegance far above most of the room. Lords Abraxas Malfoy, Orion Black and Lucien Lestrange were indeed a force to be reckoned with. He'd read about Lord Black's recent widowed state in the _Daily Prophet_ (much to his surprise, though he wasn't sure why) and he had to admit that for 46 years old the man was indeed a sight.

He studied the Wizengamot as they slowly recovered from his sharp reply to Lord Prewitt, in particular studying Senior Mugwump and Headmaster of Hogwarts Albus Dumbledore. The man was staring at him with a very fixated interest even from across the chamber, something that had gained him a few odd looks from other Lords and Ladies. There was something of dislike and enmity from the man and he almost snorted.

He knew very well why the man was annoyed that he had taken his seat. It was very well known that the Potter family were direct descendants of the Peverells and undoubtedly would have gained the familial title in another 6 months. Now that he had claimed it however, the man had lost the chance to make an ally of his a very powerful man. Studying Lord Harold Potter with far more subtlety than the Headmaster, all Harrigan saw was a weary man who appeared somewhat ill.

Leaning toward his closest companion, Lord Lestrange, he murmured quietly, "Do you happen to know if the Lord Potter is ill?"

Lestrange arched an eyebrow at him but answered in a smooth voice, "He just recovered from a bad bout of wizarding flu, my Lord Peverell. He has been particularly susceptible to disease since childhood."

Indicating his acknowledgement of the statement Harrigan sat back and waited, knowing that Dumbledore would not long be able to hold his tongue. It took a while, long enough for Harrigan to vote in favour of a bill that would require Veritaserum testimony at future trials, something that the man had _not_ been in favour of, strangely enough.

"Madame Minister," Dumbledore began, eyes twinkling at Minister Bagnold, who frowned at him, "should we even be counting 'Lord' Peverell's votes? Honestly one has to wonder _why_ it has taken him so long to claim his line, certainly the line belongs to the Potter family by right of succession."

"Minister, if I may answer Senior Mugwump Dumbledore myself, as it is my own reputation he is attacking so boldly?" Harrigan spoke up, warm tenor ringing clearly through the room. The Minister gave him a long, assessing glance and nodded.

Harrigan stood and stepped up to the barrier in front of the seats, making himself clearly visible to all of the Lords, Ladies and the gallery. In a firm, surprisingly cold tone of voice he said, "I am beginning to tire of your glances and insinuations, Senior Mugwump. The Peverell family heritage is _mine_, claimed by birth and the stone when I entered this chamber. Do you think me a man strong enough to fool what has been enchanted by Merlin himself? The reason why I didn't claim my seat before now, not that it is any business of yours, is that I had no _idea_ that it waited for me. My parents died when I was very young of a rather suspicious illness while we lived in France and I was raised by resentful distant relatives of my mother. I finally came back to England to see where I was from more than anything else. You can imagine my surprise when I turned out to be from a very influential family, if not the wealthiest."

"As for your allegations toward the Potter family, we all know that it is 100 years exactly or more, not 99 years and 6 months (as it is in my case) or for that matter 99 years and 364 days. The Potter family is merely that and should Lord Potter hold your same desires I shall remind him that I am head of his direct ancestral family line and it is never too late to disown those who deserve it or merit it."

Lord Harold Potter looked startled at his words and stated, "I have no intentions of trying to take the Peverell Lordship from you, Lord Harrigan. Indeed, I would be pleased to be able to speak with one of my ancestral family."

"But he is Dark!" protested Lord Prewitt, who apparently wasn't smart enough to keep his mouth shut.

"This again, Lord Prewitt," Harrigan said in exasperation. "The Peverell family and their allegiance has been Dark for many centuries, it was only in recent years that a few Lords tried to change it over. Dark and Light are merely labels in any case, the major reason for the label of 'Dark' in the first place is that we still honour the Old Ways and Mother Magic, something that you 'Light' wizards seem to take for granted. And yet you still wonder why 'Light' families are losing the strength in their magic!"

"The Old Ways are nothing but pureblood supremacy, surely you can see that, Lord Peverell!" this was from an old red-headed male that Harrigan recognised as Lord Septimus Weasley. The words rang a bell for some reason, but Harrigan couldn't remember for the life of him _why_.

"I would rather be called a supremacist than a traitor to magic, Lord Weasley! By embracing the 'Christianity' of the Muggleborns you are turning your back on the very entity that makes us so special and unique in the first place! Your family has been losing magical strength for centuries and you have yet to wonder why. And by the Father of Storms and Gaia herself I cannot understand why you have blinded yourself so thoroughly!"

A sudden sharp noise made Harrigan jerk his head to his right, where he spotted Lord Ogden bringing his hands together in a firm, heavy clapping motion. "Very well put, Lord Peverell. To bring us back to the original argument, Minister, I believe it best for the Senior Mugwump to hold his tongue. There is nothing he can do to change the Lordship of the Peverell family; so much as he may want to."

Amongst the reddening face of Dumbledore and the chuckles of both the Dark section and the gallery Harrigan sat, resisting the urge to smirk. He had a feeling the old man wouldn't be recovering from that little jab anytime soon.


End file.
